An Early Snow
by minervamoon
Summary: Co-written with "Twinkling Tabby." The famous, much-acclaimed, and never-finished story now has a new chapter! A younger Minerva McGonagall learns of love at Hogwarts.
1. Preface

Author's note: Hi! This is my first published fic. I am a McGonagall fanatic, so don't be surprised if most of my stories revolve around her. This is just the Preface. I am experimenting with HTML right now, because I feel that it is time for me to learn it. The story is about...Whups! Not supposed to give that away! Well, anyway, read and review! 

_ Title _ AN EARLY SNOW -- Part I: Calm Weather and a Wild Classroom   
_ Topic _ Harry Potter   
_ Genre _ General now, but romance later? ^_^   
_ Author _ MinervaMoon   
_ Instructions _ Enjoy!   


It was unusually cold that day, especially for September. But you couldn't tell just by looking out the classroom window. The glass had been enchanted to not fog, so the great outdoors remained calm, clear, and silent. It was so dark and gloomy that even the wind seemed to have gone to sleep, for the surface of the black lake bore no waves, and shimmered dimly in the grey light. The moon was still out, even though it was nearly noon. 

The soft waves of light glimmered to this particular window through which we are looking, and peeked in. From the inside, the world outdoors was still and peaceful. But what the moon saw must have been much different. 

Contrary to the lifeless grounds, the classroom was rowdy and riotous. It radiated a sense of wildness to the whole hallway, such that all passerby were somehow forced to stop and stare at the door, feeling the strong aura of frenziness. It was crazy. 

At the head of this class, a weary teacher tried once again, in vain, to assign homework. But the planet Mars, ruler of war, seemed to have taken full control of the students. Perhaps it was the fact that lunch hour was next, or maybe that the pupils were taking advantage of the professor (who had just recovered from a cold and was feeling very tired), but whatever the reason, it seemed impossible to restrain these paper-throwing, noisily-yelling, name-calling, just plain rambunctious kids. 

And as if things couldn't get any worse, one child observantly noticed that it was snowing. An early frost? That really put the class into full gear. Snow meant no outdoor classes and more free time. But as the youth started to scream for joy, a certain young girl glanced sideways at the teacher, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. The professor, she surprisingly noted, had one hand over her mouth, and her eyes, behind wire-rimmed rectangular glasses, looked startled. The brunette girl nudged the two boys on either side of her, each with one elbow. They turned in syncopation, and she flicked her head in the direction of the instructor. They too looked shocked. 

Finally, amid the yelling, the professor informed them that class was dismissed early. There was a great roar and in 2 seconds flat, all pupils were out the door. That is, all but three: the brown haired girl and her compainions--a tall boy with a shock of orange hair and a mischevious smile, and a black haired boy with a rather peculiar mark on his forehead, like a lightning bolt. This trio timidly approached the teacher's oak desk, where she was daintily dabbing at her eyes with a yellow silk handkerchief. She noticed the group in front of her. She looked at them with a questioning expression. 

The girl began to speak. "Professor McGonagall, if there is anything we can do to help..." 

"Hey, this wasn't in the agreem-" the tall schoolboy bagan. But the other male shushed him with a, "Quiet Ron." 

The teacher gave a half-smile. "No, it's nothing. I just--need to be alone--for awhile." 

"But Professor," the dark-haired boy blurted out, "You seem really disturbed about something. Are you sure you'll be all right? Should we get Madam Pomfrey to see if you're ok? Should we get Dumbledore to talk to you?" He seemed genuinely worried. 

"No, no, it's nothing, Harry," Professor McGonagall assured them. 

"Then you aren't mad for the way we were acting?" Ron asked. 

"Well, I didn't say that," McGonagall said sternly. "But no, that is not what this is about. Now say you get Harry and Hermione to help you with your work in the library." Her look now was suggesting them to leave, so they crept quietly out the door. The wooden door clicked as it closed. McGonagall settled back in her chair. 

"An early snow..." she whispered, her thoughts prodding around in her brain, as if in search of a long forgotten memory. Suddenly, as if something clicked, she sat up and slowly closed her eyes. 

Ah, yes. Now it was coming back. -*- 


	2. Chapter One

Author's Note (Minerva Moon): I posted the prologue to this story about Christmas 2000, and stopped writing since. Many pleas were made for me to continue, but the truth is, too many things were happening at once, and Harry Potter fanfiction wasn't one of my priorities.  
  
But just recently, Twinkling Tabby emailed me, asking about a continuation, and offerring to co-write it. I thought a bit (about 3 seconds), and decided it was worth a try. I had never co-written a story before, but the writing, advice, suggestions, and editing of another would surely be helpful.  
  
Now I have come to see that it was not only helpful, but an essential part in writing this story! Twinkling Tabby thought of things I never would have, analyzing parts of the fanfiction I hadn't even considered. Without a doubt, this story would not be as wonderful if she had not contributed greatly to it.  
  
Twinkling Tabby, thank you! ^_^   
  
  
AN EARLY SNOW, CHAPTER TWO  
  
Interlude I: Forward to the Past   
  
Minerva settled into the a ride in the world of imagination. She was going back. Way back. How many years ago was this? If her memory served her correctly (which it USUALLY did), it was about 20 years ago; A score, give or take a few years. She was now in the era of peace and love; The time of the space race between the Russians and the Americans; A period where the Beatles dominated the earth. Yes, this was where she belonged.   
  
The transporting back was a rocky journey . . . how hard it was to recall thoughts this far in the past! But soon, her path cleared, and a wave of memories came rushing into the central thinking spot in her brain. Early snow . . . now Minerva remembered where she had heard it before. Full realization dawned on her.   
  
Let's not rush through it, she told herself. Start at the beginning, Minerva.   
  
The beginning. Good.   
  
So Minerva, sinking back into the plushness of her chair, began to remember.   
  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
Interlude II: A Quick Talk and Readiness  
These were the days that she loved. A sprightly woman at 30, but just as strict. She had a figure she could boast, and was a favorite among seventh years at Hogwarts. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. How Minerva loved that name. Muggle born, and often the outcast among her peers, she was ever so glad to learn she was a witch. At the of 11, Minerva promised herself that she would, one day, become a professor at Hogwarts. And here she was, at the peak of her teaching years.   
  
Minerva was, at the beginning of this memory, getting ready for the official start of the new school year, which started in about one hour, at the opening feast. She was now applying make-up to her ivory face in the bathroom adjoining her office. Her shimmering black hair was already up in a bun, which was a style she was trying out. Her long, velvet robes were a glimmering mix of purple and magenta tones, which contrasted against her dreary black cloak. Minerva was one want to stand out in a crowd.   
  
She heard a sharp rapping on the door of her office. She called out, "Come in!" to the empty room, hoping her voice would carry to the guest. It must have, because a few moments later a man appeared in her doorway. He man seemed to be blazing with energy, even though he was standing still. His cheery light-blue eyes seemed to brighten up the entire room; the entire school. His face was sprouting a beard, which fit his looks well. Minerva's face broke into a smile. They were so close, Albus and she, like brother and sister. She loved him that way, and no other. Maybe someday, sometime, a special person would come into her life. But for the time being, she considered herself single and free.  
  
"Albus!" she exclained. "How good it is to see you again."   
  
"Same to you, my dear," Albus replied, his eyes glittering. "And you look as beautiful as ever. Why bother with these cosmetics?" Minerva flushed.   
  
"Well, I . . umm . . ." she started hesitatingly.   
  
"No need to explain. I know you're still just a teenager in spirit!"   
  
Minerva grinned. "That's just about it. Oh, I remember when you were still 'Professor Dumbledore', and I was afraid of being sent to your office for fooling around in divination . . ."   
  
"Yes. But I understood that it wasn't your best subject," Dumbledore responded. "You were very spunky, even for a Gryffindor. Still, that doesn't excuse that time you tried to hex Susanna with an itching spell . . ."   
  
"Professor Vinetava was trying to make me see something in that dumb crystal," she mumbled. "It's impossible! What kind of weirdo can actually see anything in that ball of haze?"   
  
"Impossible as it may seem . . . Ah, never mind." Albus knew he could never win against her. "But let's get down to business. Will you be at the front doors to lead Hagrid and the first years to the Great Hall?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"And will you--"   
  
"Get the Sorting Hat ready, monitor the kitchens, and give the school a customary brief inspection?" Minerva said teasingly. "Yes, yes, it's all covered."  
  
Dumbledore's eyes again twinkled. "It seems as if you have the whole situation under control. I'll leave you now."   
  
Albus gave a cheery wave and turned on his heel. Minerva sighed. There was work to do, and she'd better get going. Besides, she thought, that idiotic new poltergeist (Peeves, was it?) might be setting fire to the kitchens at this very moment.   
  
How the beginning of the year could test the nerves!   
  
  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
Interlude III: A New Year, and Smile Secrets  
By the time the kitchen fiasco was straightened out (she had been wrong--Peeves merely glazed the whole room with ice), it was "show time"! Minerva dashed into the area leading to the entrance of the Great Hall, skidding and almost slipping on the white, polished floor.   
  
"Darned high-heels," she muttered to herself. "Whoever invented these must have been a muggle!" Frazzled, it was the best insult she could think of. Of course, her whole family were also Muggles, and she knew that inside, she had nothing against them.  
  
Noises were coming from the dining area. The second years and above must have arrived. She only hoped that the house-elves who made the food were able to thaw everything out all right. Otherwise, the whole school would be served chunks of ice, and goodness knows what a disaster that would be. Minerva shook her head. Why oh why did Albus ever agree to house a Poltergeist?   
  
She then heard the rumbling knocks on the entrance--a towering wooden door. Forgetting her trouble, she began in its direction. After clicking her way over to it, Minerva grasped the heavy stone handle and pulled. She had quite incredible strength for a woman of her build, and was able to grind the weighty door along the hard stone floor fairly easily.   
  
Outside, a gigantic man, dressed in a thick coat and wool pants, stood in front of a group of about 35 terrified looking students.   
  
"Why, hullo, Profess'r McGonagall. How'r you this even'n?" he man commented kindly.   
  
"Quite well, thank you," Minerva replied, involuntarily adjusting her glasses nervously. "Please lead the first years this way, Rubeus." She waved her hand in what seemed like a graceful manner, towards the side enterance to the Great Hall.   
  
Rubeus Hagrid nodded to her, then started tromping off in the direction she had motioned to, the first years stepping along timidly behind him. A few cast frightened looks in Minerva's direction. She nodded her head to them and flashed a rare smile.  
  
Smiles are only to be used scantly, she reminded herself. They're are unprofessional. A quick one, maybe, to comfort or compliment. I wouldn't get any respect if I was always grinning at everyone . . . though that does seem to work extraordinadily well with Albus!   
  
Minerva proceded into the Great Hall only after she had seen the last student in. Then, she elegantly entered through the teachers' door and headed towards her seat at the long table. Albus, as if on cue, grinned at her when he saw her coming. Minerva groaned to herself, but did not show any outward change in mood. Nothing could destroy her posture.   
  
When she reached her seat next to Albus, he courteously pulled it away from the table, still smiling at her. She knew it was all a kind of inside joke, a joke at the formality she seemed to want to project. She gazed at him with the kind of smile only the talented can make--using only her eyes. Albus's light blue gems twinkled back at her, with palpable warmth.  
  
Minerva took her seat, gazing at him in admiration. How could he do that? He was smiling like a mellow, softened grandfather, and still looked so impressive.  
  
Minerva shook her her slightly to rattle herself back to the feast, but stopped abruptly when she remembered her hair and what a bit of wiggling could do to a style like that. "All right, breathe," she intoned softly. It was her first year as Deputy Headmistress, and she had to show that she could handle it. "The first years, now. Sorting, remember, Minerva?" She then quickly glanced to the side to see if anyone had noticed her slight unease, and sure enough, Albus was gazing at her with an amused expression. Before he could tease, and Minerva was sure it would be something along the lines of her seeing a muggle psychiatrist, she cleared her throat and began the sorting ceremony.  
  
  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
Interlude IV: Routine Scrutiny . . . and Observation of the Unexpected.   
After the ceremony was over and the excited students had settled down a little, Minerva started to survey her fellow teachers. She glanced down the long row of professors; first one way, then the other, as she was seated roughly in the middle. There were a lot of new arrivals that year.   
To her left, starting at the end, was the young Gamekeeper, Hagrid, who had followed her to the teacher's table. Then she saw Professor Chimera Sprout, who was to teach Herbology. Professor Sprout was her age; they had gone to Hogwarts together, and were very good friends since then, although they hadn't been in the same house. Next came Professor Theodore Binns. He was a small, very old man who seemed to do nothing more than sleep. Minerva stifled a giggle as she saw that he was snoring right at the table, and Chimera was delicately decorating his head with an assortment of small flowers and table rolls. After placing the last bun on his head, she quickly glanced around and noticed Minerva looking over at her. She winked, and Minerva had to cover her mouth with her hand and turn away, so she wouldn't burst laughing.   
  
Sitting next to the dreaming Binns was Madam Poppy Pomfrey. She was the school's nurse, and a few years older than Minerva. Poppy was now deep in conversation with Asta Sinistra, of Astronomy. Astra was new to the staff, and was wringing her hands nervously as Poppy gave her tips and words of encouragement. Beside Astra was Professor Gregory Kettleburn of Care of Magical creatures, still bearing burns from his holiday in East Europe, where he had studied Dragons. His face was laced with the thin lines of scars, giving him a rugged look. He was not a very talkative one, but got along well with Rubeus.  
  
Seated between Kettleburn and Minerva, looking interestedly at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, was Sarunia Tiraki, professor of Ancient Runes. Sarunia was Japanese and had started teaching at Hogwarts two years earlier. Her face held the delicate and lovely features customary to Asians, and she was known for her sense of humor.   
  
Minerva leaned over the table to see past Dumbledore, on her right. Next to the headmaster sat a man she hadn't seen before. Probably the new Defense against the Dark Arts professor, she supposed. He seemed all right, she thought, watching him scan the students' tables. Next to him sat Kathryn Calliope, for Flying lessons and Quidditch, seemingly deeply interested in her empty plate, if you didn't count the quick glances she often threw at her new Dark Arts colleague. Yes, indeed he was worth a second glance. What was his name, anyway?  
  
Further on, next to Calliope, were Professors Trelawney and Vector, of Divination and Arithmancy. They both had arrived the previous year, and were at the moment deeply involved in a conversation from which Minerva didn't want to know anything, really. Riana Vector was all right most of the time, but Minerva had no patience for Sibyll Trelawney (The airhead!), nor Divination.   
  
Professor Whatever-his-name-was had suddenly stopped observing the students, and as he lowered his head, a lock of brown hair fell in front of his eye, and he put it back at its place, behind his ear. Strong and willing eyes, he had.   
  
Minerva found, surprised, that she was a little reluctant to continue her observations. She willed herself to, pulling her gaze away from the unknown Professor.   
  
At Professor Vector's right was the Muggle Studies Teacher, Aminata N'Kiobe, a black woman with funny little braids all over her head, laughing at little Professor Filius Flitwick's joke. And at the end of the table, staring at them moodily, was the potion teacher, whose character didn't seem to have improved since he had been moved into the dungeons. Obviously the proximity with the Slytherins, in this part of the castle, was particularly irritating him, year after year. . . . Though Minerva couldn't quite blame him for that!  
  
Albus began chatting with the new DADA Teacher, and Minerva inadvertently found herself leaning in their direction. Soon she was rewarded for her eavesdropping. Peter! She had heard it; His name was Peter. Her eyes glinted in triumph.  
  
"Anything just happen Minerva ?" That was Albus. How could he have seen that little expression in her face when he was already speaking with someone? Now she felt stupid. She would have to learn to not wear her emotions on her sleeve, even when she thought no one was watching.  
  
"Err . . . Nothing . . ." Then she realized how her thoughts had constantly led her back to that Peter for the previous 2 minutes, and so had her stares. Goodness, she was ridiculous, no doubt about it . . . "Nothing, actually, Albus." How stupid she could be, really, daydreaming about a colleague's eyes! This was not how a Deputy Headmistress should act. . . . Still, his eyes were undoubtedly compelling, something between blue and green . . .  
  
"Do we know each other?" asked Peter, looking interestedly at her.   
  
"You wouldn't have forgotten her if you did!" Albus answered with a bad if at all dissimulated grin. Minerva realized with shock and terror that Albus had clearly noticed and understood her expression, and apparently decided to annoy her. And he was successful! She had to be as red as Professor Sarunia's robe by now. That new teacher was going to think she was an immature little girl.   
  
She tried to speak as if there was nothing going on: "Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Professor."   
  
"Pleasure, Minerva. Peter Sapphire, Defense Against the Dark Arts. Why haven't I seen you in the staff room today ? I'd have noticed you if you were there."   
  
"Deputy Headmistress job all day," she explained.  
  
"Oh, so you are Deputy Headmistress. . . ." Peter offered.   
  
"Good deduction, Professor," she said, using an almost patronizing tone, but she was smiling.   
  
Then she exchanged a meaningful look with Albus, who was leaning backwards slightly so the two professors could speak, then asked for silence hitting her glass with her spoon, and Albus proclaimed the beginning of the Feast. 


End file.
